For Your Own Good
by MockingjayFlying
Summary: From his birth, he had known his son was different. She had thought he was beautiful, but she left him. "This is for your own good," he would say. But he saw nothing good come from what his father did to him. A brief one shot of Tobias's life before and during this brutal age.


_A/N Hello everybody! Well I have finished an amazing series. The divergent series, and I am mesmerized. Divergent and Insurgent are amazing novels created by the talented Veronica Roth! My devotion will always be to The Hunger Games but I have decided to write fanfictions about this series and the characters in them! So, from this point on, you will notice that my stories will be more mature and some what more creative- if possible –I hope you enjoy my first one about the series! It is a short excerpt about Tobias and his so called Demon of a father Marcus Eaton. What about? You will soon see! :D Enjoy! _

* * *

He is beautiful.

That was the word overcoming her thoughts as the shrill cry pierced the air. Albeit the agonizing labor she had been through for what seemed like days at a time, and the some what heartening words of her husband as she screamed and fought and pressed on, all that fills her mind and soul is that her baby boy is beautiful.

She gazed at him again, in awe, as he squirmed and his eyes met hers. They were dark orbs of blue, brighter than night but darker than day. And his skin, an olive color, perfectly matched his mother's. And despite his age, his hair sprouts out in uneven tuffs, dark and wavy. The woman smiles at her newborn son, but instead of repeating the action, his eye wonder over to the plain white walls, the windows, his father. _Curiosity shows erudite_, she thinks.

"What should we name him?" she asks her husband. He grins widely, for he knows the exact name to give his new son.

"Tobias."

* * *

He is clever.

Marcus notices the curiosity and cleverness in his son. His hair is kept, clean and cut. His focus, completely on the puzzle before him; the process of putting the shapes into the matching crypt. And he does so without any hesitation. At the age of three, this should be proceeding and the parent's job in the situation would commonly be to soothe the crying toddler and give him the comfort and assure him that trying is the answer, always.

However, Tobias does not need any of the assurance.

This kind of intellectual only belongs to erudite and their faction. This is much too advanced for any abnegation child. So Marcus studies his son.

"Tobias," he says. "Was that difficult for you?"

"No, daddy."

* * *

Tobias turns five and begins his education.

The Amity children, he notices, wear exuberant yellows and exhilarating reds and oranges. They radiate happiness from the laughter they share.

It is lunch time and Tobias does not know where to be seated.

The abnegation children are much too dull, to quiet as they chew on their stale bread and butter because jam is much to indulgent to be eaten. They look at no one but their clothing or their shoes as they eat their meals and somehow, the gray cloud does not please Tobias much.

He looks over at the Dauntless.

He has always admired their spunk and bravery. They munch with so much ferocity that he can hear them eat their meals from where he stands.

As young as they are, he sees one boy with a Mohawk of purple and green descent and a few of the children have tattoos. They soon realize Tobias and how he staring and they return his glance at him by glaring in his direction. Tobias, however, does not feel any intimidation, but stares back at them until their glances waver and return to their food.

Tobias then glances at the erudite children with their glasses and their smite. The girls have their hair in silver clips, bangs away from their for heads. The boys keep their hair slicked back with some sort of gel and their clothing completely wrinkle free. All of their heads are stuck in some kind of book and their movements are in sync. They look like robots.

Tobias hates robots.

He considers walking to the Candor table, but the children they are all quizzing each other based on the stances they possess.

Tobias fits in nowhere. But naturally, no such thing occurs to him at that time. He simply finds a seat atop the grass near the gates of the play ground. Fishing out his own stale bread and water. He chews slowly, and does not acknowledge the fact that his father watches him.

Watching his son during a usual lunch time, spent with friends in certain factions, sit alone.

It confirmed his suspicions that Tobias was divergent.

* * *

It started with arguments.

Two, three, ten every waking moment of every waking day they yell and scream incoherent things at one another.

Tobias despises it though. And he tries to hide from it but he can never get away. From the pain.

From his father.

It begins one night, when he returns from school, and his Father is waiting for him. He holds his head in his dark, calloused hands. A broken, glass shattered beside his feet.

Tobias closes the front door and approaches his father. He doesn't know he should run yet. He doesn't know that that night will only progress into countless others. Only worse.

"Where's mommy?" he asks his father, his innocence feigns his being. He knows that his mother is absent, she would always greet him with an embrace, or a snack before dinner was ready, but tonight she is not present.

"Mommy isn't coming back sport."

He takes out his belt and starts toward his son, Tobias is confused and scared and he longs for his mother. He runs up the stairs, but his legs are not long enough, he isn't big enough, and as his father pulls him under he hears the faint sentence that will ruin his life.

"This is for your own good."

* * *

_A/N I hope you liked it. Reviews are well appreciated_


End file.
